


If this is the road to ruin, then we’re starting at the end

by JoliePrudence



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: 29 Palms, Angst, Boys In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Angst, Grand Gestures, M/M, angsty fluff, desert sunrises, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoliePrudence/pseuds/JoliePrudence
Summary: Armie kidnaps Timmy during yet another industry ceremony and whisks him away for a romantic desert getaway.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 49
Kudos: 93





	If this is the road to ruin, then we’re starting at the end

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be my first real attempt at pure fluff. As you can see by the tags, it did not go well! So I put this aside for a few days and wrote Juillet and then came back to it because I still had the story in my head.
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy it. There is SOME fluff. It's just, angsty-fluff. Or maybe it's more fluffy-angst? Anyway, there's Armie and Timmy running away together so that's something. :)

[ ](https://ibb.co/Yhs95zN)

Timmy hesitates. “We can’t. We’ll get caught and then we’ll get in trouble.” he says, each sentence sounding more high pitched than the other. His brow is furrowed and his pretty pink lips are pulled tight, their usual mouth-watering plumpness gone due to worry; which is a shame because he’s so beautiful when he smiles it should be a punishable offense to upset him.

Armie wants to kiss those lips into acquiescence if not submission. He wants to make them swollen and red and beg with want. But if they’re going to make their escape, they need to do it now; before someone notices they’re gone. He laughs and tightens his hand around Timmy’s; as much to reassure him as to make sure he doesn’t bolt. He isn’t laughing at Timmy so much as he’s laughing at the situation. They’re grown-ass men sneaking around like boarding school misfits, afraid of being sent to the principal's office. At the end of the day, their people work for them, not the other way around; so why is he looking over his shoulder and ducking behind a recessed storage room in the hallway of a posh hotel trying to avoid being found? 

They had to be looking for them by now. They’d left their seats at the table between two courses - first Armie who had stated he was going to get a drink at the bar and then five minutes later, Timmy excusing himself to go to the bathroom, meeting Armie in the hallway by the kitchen as per his instruction - and they had never returned. As soon as Timmy had rounded the corner into the hall, Armie had dragged him into the recess and asked him to run away with him. 

Timmy’s initial reaction had been thrill and elation. He’d flushed at the thought with excitement but then trepidation kicked in and he shook his head sadly, because they’d been told to be good and he had this ingrained need to be the person everyone expected him to be; at the detriment of himself. They had careers to think of, images to maintain and award season was definitely not the time to start rocking the boat they’d all said; and Armie had hated every single one of them at that moment. Because Timmy didn’t deserve the pressure and the expectation they were all overburdening him with. Couldn’t they see the cracks forming? The way his smile had slightly faded, how his eyes had dulled ever so faintly? How when he laughed it was with less abandon and when he spoke it was measured and careful, no longer carefree and jumping from one tangent to the other? Couldn’t they see they were breaking him? 

“Come on, T. run away with me. Just for one night, let’s say fuck it and get outta here.” Armie says, squeezing Timmy’s hand again, hoping that Timmy can see how much he loves him and misses him even when they’re standing inches apart. How much it hurts when he wants to touch him but he’s told he can’t. And how frustrating it is that he wants to tell the world that his heart - his entire fucking being - belongs to Timmy. But they wont let him because it could hurt their careers; and it’s even more frustrating because he knows they aren’t wrong. He wishes he didn’t care. But he does. More so for Timmy’s career than his own but still… he wishes he could say FUCK IT and it not be just for one night. But one night is all he can risk… for now.

“I want to. I do. More than I want to breathe right now. But…” Timmy says and he looks even more panicked, like no matter what he does he will be letting someone down. And now Armie hates himself a little too. But he knows if he can just get Timmy away from the event he’ll relax and enjoy himself. So he does the only thing he knows Timmy is helpless against.

Pressing himself into his long and narrow frame, Armie steps forward which forces Timmy to step backward and with nowhere to go he ends up pinned between the wall and Armie’s even longer and much larger body. One of Armie’s thick thighs nestles between his narrower ones, the muscle of it grazing against his immediately responsive cock. Armie’s forearm holds him in place by pressing against his collarbones, just below his throat where he can feel the weight of it start to restrict his airflow just enough to be heady, the length of it spanning from one shoulder to the other as though it had been measured and made to fit there. With his free hand Armie tucks a stray curl behind Timmy’s ear and caresses his earlobe between a curved index finger and his thumb.

“Please.” Armie says, looking down and at Timmy with eyes that are instantly more black than blue and pouty lips that he licks to make wet and shiny. And Timmy groans because ‘please’ is all it takes when Armie wants something and he uses these tactics. It’s unfair because Timmy is useless when the promise of Armie’s body is at hand’s reach and Armie knows it. 

“Asshole.” Timmy says and Armie chuckles because he knows that ‘asshole’ in this case means ‘yes’. 

Armie would gladly receive a million of Timmy’s insults when they mean ‘I love you!’ and ‘I’d do anything for you’. When what Timmy is really saying is ‘I trust you.’ and ‘yes… to anything. Just, yes!’. 

“If we get in trouble I’m saying you kidnapped me.” Timmy warns adamantly, trying to sound stern but his voice is breathy and his furrowed brow has been smoothed while his lips are back to being puffy and inviting. 

Armie chuckles again because he’ll take the blame for this without hesitation. He’d take the blame for anything, for everything, if it meant he and Timmy could be together openly and stop hiding in recesses and living for stolen moments. But for now, Armie will take what he can get. So he leans in to kiss the lips he had so hated seeing mistreated by worry and stress just moments earlier - lingering just enough to leave Timmy quivering when he pulls away - and before his hostage can change his mind, Armie peers into the hallway to make sure the coast is clear.

They walk quickly, heads lowered and eyes on the floor; as though a 6 foot 5 mammoth of a man in a burgundy silk suit and an almost 6 foot tall runway model looking dude in a tie-dye whatever he’s wearing is called, holding hands and speed walking, could be inconspicuous. But Armie figures if they walk fast enough, people might not have time to stop them even if they do get recognized. Timmy has to adjust his forward momentum when he’s pulled toward the reception desk instead of the front door as he’d expected. And thank god Armie is holding his hand because he would have fallen otherwise. He stumbles a few strides and then catches up, wondering what they’re doing. 

He’s excited now. Now that he’s decided to give in; now that he’s agreed to to say ‘fuck it’ and do what he wants to do as opposed to what’s expected of him. The excitement and the adrenaline rush are starting to make him lightheaded, though - the two rum and cokes he had at dinner probably aren’t helping - so he clings to Armie’s arm as though he’s a life raft in the middle of a rocky sea. And isn’t that just the perfect metaphor for Armie. Because he had been a life raft in more ways than one and Timmy clings to him almost desperately at times, in need of safety and protection from the ebbs and rolling swells that are his life, his career and his rapidly growing fame; but also because when he’s in Armie’s arms he feels seen, understood and loved. Even when they’re apart he knows he is loved and cherished and wanted. Armie always makes sure to remind him of this during those times when he can’t show him.

They’re greeted immediately by a lovely young lady at the reception desk who looks a little flustered to have them both standing there - clearly having noticed they’re holding hands - but she contains herself well. Armie asks her for a pen and a piece of paper which she provides immediately. On the blank page topped with the hotel letterhead, Armie scrolls a few sentences in his beautiful lilting cursive and after signing it with a flourish, he folds the paper neatly. He asks the young woman if she’d be willing to do him a favor and when she nods - fervently and with fluttering eyelashes, which makes Timmy giggle because is there anybody Armie can’t seduce? - he smiles gratefully. Handing her the note, he asks that she wait a few minutes after they’ve gone and then bring it to his publicist, who is seated at table 19 in the grand ballroom. 

Then Timmy is being pulled toward the lobby entrance and he’s laughing, because what he’s feeling is so strong and so potent that if he keeps it in, he’ll burst. So it comes out as laughter, full of joy and elation… and love. He holds on to Armie’s hand as they run and their escape feels thrilling and a little bit scary, but in a good way; like being at the top of a big drop on a rollercoaster or the dizzying heights of a ferris wheel. Crossing the threshold and emerging into the damp heat of another L.A. night feels emancipating and even if he knows it’s only temporary, Timmy’s ready. Ready to run away and become another version of himself. A version where he’s allowed to love freely and openly and be loved in the same way in return. He feels breathless, not because of exertion, but rather because there’s a sense of euphoria tingling throughout his body. It feels electric.

They jump in a cab and more for effect than actual urgency, Armie tells the cabby to ‘just drive’ and he and Timmy drop against the backrest of the backseat in perfect unison as the car speeds off. They turn to look at each other, laughing and chests heaving, hands still clasped with fingers interlocked, as a new sense of freedom settles in. It’s exhilarating. Once they’ve slowed and merged into traffic Armie gives the driver an address and he relaxes. 

The address is only a six or seven minute drive away. When they pull into a convenience store’s parking lot, Timmy doesn’t even question it because he trusts Armie and frankly he doesn’t care where they go or what they do as long as they’re together. He’s surprised to see Niki and Tyler waiting for them when they get there, leaning against the trunk of Armie’s SUV. They’d driven it here for him, Niki in the SUV and Tyler following in his own car to be able to drive Niki home after.

“Hey brother,” Niki greets Armie, arms open and he hugs him as soon as he’s in reach.

“Hey man, thanks for doing this,” Armie says, his voice emotion-filled, and he buries his face in Niki's shoulder to stifle it, hugging his friend tightly. It makes Timmy’s heart feel full of gratitude for these men who are Armie’s family… and also his. 

“Where are you heading?” Niki asks while Tyler hugs Armie in turn.

“I was thinking the desert. 29 Palms Inn or something like that.” Armie replies and Timmy gets excited because he’s never been to the California desert and has always wanted to go; especially since it’s one of Armie's favorite places.

“You should get on the road then.” Niki advises and hands Armie the keys. “What should I say if someone calls looking for you?”

“You can tell them whatever you want, just don’t tell them where we are. We’ll be back tomorrow night.” Armie says, taking his suit jacket and tie off and throwing them into the trunk of his car. “Everything I asked for in here?” Armie asks, pulling out an overnight back and rummaging through it quickly.

“Changes of clothes, toothbrushes, handcuffs and the double-headed dildo. Was there anything else?” Tyler answers and Timmy’s cheeks flush. 

“You forgot the lube.” Armie shoots back playfully which leaves Timmy wondering - hoping maybe?- if Tyler’s serious.

There’s a bit more teasing from Tyler while they all head into the 7-Eleven so Timmy and Armie can get some snacks for the road - something about the amount of candy Timmy insists on buying and Armie clearly robbing the cradle - and after more hugs and thank yous, they’re finally off.

“Gimme that.” Armie says, after about half an hour of them being on the road, hand stretched out toward Timmy, whose phone has been buzzing incessantly for a good twenty minutes. 

And Timmy has been trying to ignore it. To pretend like he doesn’t hear it or feel it vibrating in his pocket, because he knows it’s probably his team and he knows they’re probably pissed and he is starting to get anxious again even if he’s trying really hard not to. 

Armie grabs the phone from Timmy’s hand and for a second Timmy thinks he's going to make a big dramatic gesture like they do in the movies and throw the phone out the window as they’re barreling down the highway. Instead, Armie quickly powers it down, does the same with his own and then keeping his eyes on the road, he stretches to store them away in the glovebox. 

“Hey! Stay with me, ok?” Armie says, taking Timmy’s hand and bringing it to his lips so he can kiss his knuckles. “For the next 24 hours, it’s just me and you. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. Ok?” And Timmy nods, because there’s nothing he wants more than to be in this moment with Armie.

Timmy has always loved long car rides on darkened highways. It was the intimacy of it. How with no scenery to distract you, the inside of the car became its own little world. He sits cross-legged in his seat, shoes long ago discarded, socked feet tucked under his knees and he’s eating his way through the different candies he’s purchased while he and Armie are talking about everything and nothing, jumping from topic to the other, talking over each other and often laughing until their eyes water and their bellies hurt. Timmy feeds Armie Sweedish Berries and Sour Patch Kids and during rare moments of silence Armie squeezes Timmy’s thigh or brushes the back of his hand over Timmy’s cheek.

It’s late when they pull up to the 29 Palms Inn but Armie had called from the road once they’d hit the highway and the man who was working the front desk had assured him they’d have a room available when they arrived.

Timmy is immediately enchanted by the old mission style adobe they check into. The building’s mudbrick walls are painted pink and look aged but well maintained, a weathered wooden door opens into a private sun patios, which leads into a cozy room with white-washed walls and mismatched furniture. There’s a wood-burning fireplace and a tiny bathroom that looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the 50s, but everything is clean and comfortable looking. 

The first thing Timmy does is take a running leap and throw himself on the bed. It’s only a queen but he’s ok with that because it means they’ll have to snuggle, the old metal spring frame and iron headboard creaking and protesting as he bounces on the mattress. This makes him giggle, the sound of which makes Armie happy. Because the light is back in Timmy’s eyes and the euphonic chime that rings in his laughter when it's confident and carefree is echoing into the ceiling. 

“What?” Timmy asks when Armie joins him on the bed but rather than attack him with kisses or start ripping his clothes off as he is known to do, simply looks at him with what can only be described as wonder.

“I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a long time.” Armie says, trailing his knuckles across Timmy’s sharp jaw in a tender caress. “I’ve missed it.” And Timmy doesn’t know what to say so instead of words he stretches his neck to reach Armie’s lips and kisses him with the same delicate fondness Armie had just shown with his touch. 

Timmy offers to start the fire while Armie takes a quick shower and he doesn't even pretend to avert his eyes when Armie slinks out of his pants and underwear before heading to the bathroom. He loves Armie’s body. Especially when it’s naked. When he can see the strong muscles in his thighs and the definition of his arms and the way light makes his chest hair shine like gold. Timmy loves how big he is and how tall he is and how it doesn’t make him feel small but it does make him feel protected.

Timmy is changed out of his designer gala outfit and wearing nothing but a pair of clean boxer briefs when Armie emerges from his shower in a similar outfit to find him going through the overnight bag.

“What are you looking for?” Armie asks, coming to stand next to Timmy where he finishes his question by bending down to kiss the top of his head.

“The handcuffs.” Timmy answers and he actually looks a little disappointed that he can’t find any. “What kind of kidnapping is this if you didn’t even bring handcuffs?”

And Armie wants to tell him that he didn’t actually plan this. That this runaway scheme had come to him spur of the moment that evening, while they sat through yet another banquet dinner at yet another industry schmoozing event; and Timmy had looked so sad for a minute. It was as though in an unguarded moment the mask had slipped and his true self had managed to peek through. And it had broken Armie’s heart. So he’d come up with the plan, and he’d texted his friends asking for a little help in making this happen, and now here they were. But instead of saying all that he simply smiles, wiggles his eyebrows and tells Timmy that he’ll be right back.

When he returns from outside he’s retrieved the velvet tie he had discarded earlier, holding it up for Timmy to see and at the sight of it, Timmy’s eyes go wide and his entire body turns pink. 

The whole restraining thing isn’t Armie’s go to move. It’s not that he doesn’t like it. He does. But he prefers intricate bondage to basic constraints so it requires a little more planning. It’s the art of it he likes. The way the patterns and the knots he creates look on the body. The way his designs dig into Timmy’s unblemished flesh and will leave imprints that Armie will be able to still feel later; swollen ridges and shallow depressions that Armie will be able to read like braille. How the longer it takes him to create the knots, the more sensitive and titlated Timmy becomes. How by the time he’s done, Timmy has fully surrendered and is so completely gone he’ll come just by Armie dragging a nail on the sole of his foot or when he grazes his fingertips over Timmy’s belly. 

Timmy on the other hand, is really into the whole restaining thing. He likes the struggle, the feeling of being overpowered. He likes it when Armie makes him beg. When Armie humiliates him a little because when he’s calling him a slut or other things that should sound vile, it’s always prefaced with a possessiveness and compliments that make him feel beautiful and owned. He likes being told he’s being good and made to be good if he’s not.

So when Timmy’s skin flushes from head to toes at the sight of the tie, Armie is immediately hard. Because even if it’s not his go to move, the fact that Timmy is already vibrating with anticipation, his chest raising and falling faster suddenly, his eyes looking a little wild, it’s like a lightning bolt straight to his cock. And he’d be lying if he said that when he takes a step forward, the fact that Timmy’s flight response kicks in, making him scooch back unconsciously, doesn’t give him a little thrill.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Armie asks while simultaneously grabbing one of Timmy’s ankles so he can drag him back to the foot of the bed in one fluid motion, the surprise of it making Timmy gasp and immediately his pupils are blown.

Sometimes, Timmy will try and escape, adding a little chase to the struggle but not tonight. Tonight he extends his arms in Armie’s direction, offering him his wrists willingly, the delicate skin on their insides looking deliciously pale and Armie thinks he can see Timmy’s pulse ragging through the blue veins that adorn them.

“Well, aren’t you being such a good boy already. So well behaved.” Armie praises while he’s wrapping his tie around Timmy’s wrists tightly; and he has to stifle a laugh because the compliment causes Timmy’s abdominal muscles to clench visibly and he can’t control the whimper that escapes his parted lips. 

  
“I think i’m suffering from reverse Stockholm syndrome.” Armie says after. After he’s made Timmy’s entire body buck wildly from the kissing, the licking and the bitting. After he’s made Timmy beg and plead with desire and frustration in equal measure. After he’s had to muffle Timmy’s moans with the palm of his hand because the windows are open and Timmy is coming undone loudly under him.

“Lima Syndrome you mean?” Timmy corrects, almost choking Armie in the process of scratching an itch on his nose and he bursts out in laughter and apologies, realizing what he’s done. Armie simply bites at his collarbone softly in return.

Armie had wanted to take the tie off after they’d both come - Armie twice for which he was very grateful - worried the restraints would be leaving marks that couldn't be hidden, given the force with which Timmy had fought against them while Armie tortured him in ways that made his toes curl and his muscles feel like they were on fire; but Timmy hadn’t wanted him to… not yet. So they are lying there, bodies drenched in sweat being cooled by a cold breeze coming in from the open windows, Timmy’s bound arms keeping Armie close as he massages his scalp with one hand, long graceful fingers combing through his hair.

“What? That’s not actually a thing is it?” Armie asks, chin resting on Timmy’s sternum so he can look at him. “You’re making that up.” 

“Am not. The opposite of Stockholm Syndrome is called Lima Syndrome. It’s when captors fall in love with their victims.” Timmy asserts and then he can’t help but preen under Armie’s awed expression.

“Jesus Christ, you’re smart!” Armie professes, rolling them over so Timmy is on top now with their chests pressed together, their legs intertwined. “And talented and beautiful and fucking hot and just… fuck, I love you!” he can’t help but list, each compliment validated with a kiss on Timmy’s jaw, his neck, his chin and finally his lips. 

Later they shower together and they can’t stop laughing because they don’t actually both fit in the small space, so someone always has a leg or an arm outside and the showerhead is built low in the wall so Armie has to crouch to wash his face and his hair. And when Timmy decides to get on his knees to ‘help Armie wash his ass… with his tongue!’ his own ass is freezing cause its sticking all the way out.

They fuck in front of the fire place because Armie thinks it’s romantic, despite Timmy making fun of him because it’s cliche; but Armie thinks that cliches are cliches for a reason so ‘shut the fuck up and get over here, asshole, so I can make love to you’. And it was beautiful and tender and ok Armie almost singed the hair on his ass because there isn’t a lot of space in the corner of the room where the fireplace is, so when he pulls back to thrust into Timmy he gets a little too close to the fire and it’s getting hot back there. But you know… It’s romantic.

They talk. They talk a lot. About everything and about nothing. And about things that aren’t important but actually are because they’re talking about them. They finish Timmy’s candy and they drink bad hotel room coffee when they start to get tired because Timmy wants to watch the sunrise and Armie wants to watch Timmy watch the sunrise. 

When it’s time, Armie pulls the multi-colored quilt from the bed and takes Timmy’s hand in his before they walk out to the sun patio where Armie wraps the quilt around them both as they snuggle on a lounge chair.

“We fit together like puzzle pieces.” Timmy says as he settles his bum between Armies thighs and presses his back to Armie’s chest, their arms, hands and fingers all intertwined under the blanket. Armie hums in response, nuzzling Timmy’s neck and kissing his shoulder.

They’re quiet for a long time, then. They’re quiet as dawn stirs and the sun's first rays peak over the horizon. They’re silent while light blooms and they can finally see the vastness of the Mohave spread out before them; listening while the world starts to wake, the sound of life getting underway around them.

“Hey, we’re did you go?” Armie asks when he realizes Timmy isn’t just silent. He’s lost somewhere in his head. “Comeback to me.” He says, kissing Timmy’s temple, his neck, the spot behind his ear.

And it takes Timmy a minute to answer because he is weighing his words. Because he wants to make sure that when he says them, Armie hears them and knows that he means them. So it takes him a minute and then he turns in Armie’s arms and straddles his thighs under the blanket so they’re facing each other.

“I love you.” Tiimmy says and he kisses Armie’s lips softly before continuing. “But I can’t do this anymore. Actually it’s not that I can’t. It’s that I don't want to.” And Armie panics for a split second, because he feels like the floor is about to swallow him whole. Timmy sees it in his eyes so he tries to clarify. “I know you’re worried about our careers and you have the kids to think about, so if you tell me that you can’t or you don’t want to, I'll totally understand. If this is the only way we can be together then I can keep doing it. But I don’t want it to be just this anymore, Armie.”

“What are you saying?” Armie asks, knowing the answer but wanting to make sure anyway.

“I want people to know about us. I don’t want to hide anymore. I’m tired. I’m tired of hiding and having to be so careful all the time. Of doing press and feeling my team looming over me, watching everything I say, everything I do. I’m tired of not being able to comment on all your Instagram posts and tell everyone how beautiful I think you are. And how much I love you.”

“Timmy,” Armie starts and he’s shaking his head already, because he’s worried and he’s scared and Timmy can tell it’s about him and not himself, because Armie would throw himself in front of a herd of charging elephants to protect Timmy if he had too. “You know we can’t. It would kill your career and you love acting too much for me to let you do that. I can’t be the reason you can’t do the one thing you’ve always wanted to do. The thing you were meant to do.”

“I do love it. But I want acting to be my career not my entire life. I don’t want to be a character for the next twenty or thirty years. I want to be able to be myself; not constantly be playing a role or reading the lines that are written for me. And I want the same for you.” Timmy says, almost without pausing so he sounds out of breath. But he keeps going. “And I think you’re wrong. I don’t think it’ll hurt our careers. Not the careers we want to have anyway. Because I don’t care about the blockbusters and the big studio movies. They’re great but they aren’t important. The movies we want to make, the ones that are important, the ones that say something and change people, they’re made by people who understand. People who don’t care who we love or who we fuck. And the fans, they want us to be happy. And if we’re happy together, they’ll be happy for us. So if you tell me you don’t want to do this, because you aren’t ready, or because you’re afraid for your career, I’ll understand and I'll still love you. But I want you to know that I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Timmy is expecting Armie to argue or refuse. Maybe even agree but he definitely isn’t expecting Armie to leave Timmy on the lounge chair and head inside. He’s back moments later, still naked but with his car keys in hand. And Timmy watches, stunned, when Armie walks out of the private patio, presumably to the car. And for a second Timmy wonders if Armie is going to leave him here and drive off naked. The thought makes him panic and laugh at the same time. But then Armie’s back with their phones in hand. He reclaims his spot on the lounge chair and pulls Timmy onto his lap.

“Did you really just go to the car naked?” Timmy asks him, incredulous even if he saw it happen.

“I figure grand gestures are even grander when performed naked.” Armie says playfully, and meanwhile he has powered on both telephones and has set his to the camera setting. “Are you ready?” he asks, pulling Timmy even closer, bringing his arm up as though he’s about to take a picture.

“Ready for what?” Timmy asks, confused.

“I’m ready too T. I’ve been ready for years. It’s you I was trying to protect. But I’m ready. More ready than I’ve been ready for anything in my life.” he says to him and Timmy just nods because he feels too breathless to speak. Like his heart is too small to contain the swell of love he feels so it’s spilling into his lungs. “Ok then. Kiss me, and make it a good one.”

And Timmy does just that. He wraps his arms around Armie’s shoulder while his hands find their way to his hair and he presses his lips to Armie’s with a greedy passion, his entire body pressing into Armie’s chest, his thighs, his groin… everything.

“This is it Tim. Last chance to change your mind. After I hit send, things are gonna get a little crazy for a while. You sure you’re ready?” Armie says after editing the picture he snapped during their kiss to make it a little less pornographic - Timmy really went all in - and queuing it up to post.

“I’ve always been ready.” Timmy says confidently and Armie hits send.

Immediately Timmy’s phone dings with a notification that Armie posted to Instagram. He opens the application and reads the caption to the story.

‘If this is the road to ruin, then we’re starting at the end. I love you @tchalamet.’ 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I suck at summaries. Just putting it out there so you know I know.
> 
> FYI, the title is a lyric stolen from a Fallout Boy song called Alone Together. You can listen to it here:  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/75SixhsPWyRRmtqHeffiXr?si=iw3dNfAtS7CLJ_za5_6rSw


End file.
